At home, the horror and grief is just now starting to wear off, and people are trying to make sense of what happened last Thursday night. In a place as small as Rhode Island, the tragedy of last week's nightclub fire was brought home to nearly everyone in my state. Our social networks are so strong and the degrees of separation are so few that although we claim 1 million residents, the loss of 96 has shaken us to our very core. I used to think that the clich‚d concept of a "tight-knit community" was something to cherish. Now I'm not so sure. I knew from the minute I learned of the fire that it would be nearly impossible to not know someone personally who had died. With each day that has passed, the people of my state have waited with great anxiety for the names of the dead to be released. And each time the victim lists are made public, we have felt either guilt-tinged relief or had our worst fears confirmed. Two friends of mine from high school were in the bar that night. George and I were co-captains on the indoor track team together, but he was better known for being our school's starting quarterback. When I heard that he was at the bar when the fire broke out, I thought back to how strong and athletic as he was. He must have made it out, I thought. As it happened, he managed to escape with his life, but it had nothing to do with strength. This fire was indiscriminate; he survived for no better reason than because he was lucky. Mark was a quiet guy and a little awkward during high school, but no matter what, you'd always catch him with a smile on his face. I last saw him over break when I was at the local mall doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. He now had facial hair and had let his hair grow out since high school, so when he came over to say hello, I was flustered; I hadn't recognized him. It took me a few seconds to remember his name, but I could see that he caught my initial blank stare. I felt awful about it then, and I feel even worse now. Mark never had a chance at the concert that night; like so many others, he was just in the wrong place. Just a week past his 22nd birthday, Mark lost his life. Something good has to come of this unspeakable tragedy. In Rhode Island, people are seeking justice and demanding accountability for what happened. While that is a necessary and important part of the process, we must also resolve to ensure that such needless tragedies never occur again. Lawmakers will undoubtedly take up this issue, and maybe new safety regulations will be written, but as individuals, we must also work to do what we can where we can. With a community as "tight-knit" as Penn's, I cannot begin to imagine the impact of a similar tragedy on our own campus. Yet, like so many other vibrant social environments, our neighborhood bars are often filled to capacity or higher on weekends. It's difficult to recall a night when getting from one side of a bar to the other took fewer than five minutes. And what's worse, at most of our campus bars, well-lit fire exits are few and far between. In a fire or in some other case of mass panic, most of us would rush to leave through the only door we knew: the front exit. This, of course, would be a tragic mistake. With this as the situation, it is imperative that action be taken to mitigate the risks to members of our community. While it is the responsibility of each of us to know the location of the emergency exits no matter where we are, Penn's campus bars should work to make these exits more visible and more accessible than they are right now. More importantly, however, measures have to be taken to prevent overcrowding and to ensure adherence to local fire codes. Penn's administration and student leaders need to see these changes implemented, if for no better reason than to err on the side of caution. In the past two weeks alone, the death toll of the Rhode Island and Chicago disasters have shown us all why such measures are necessary. Let us act now so that our community never has to suffer a similar fate. Tim McCarten is a senior International Relations and Political Science major from Cumberland, R.I.
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